Prodigious
by Sucker4Xovers
Summary: One doesn't have to be a genius or excel at everything to be a prodigy. This was the firm belief of one Ronald Bilius Weasley. One look at the people around him was enough to prove him right. His friends might need some convincing though. Rating may change.
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone. Thank you for taking the time to read this. This is my first tine writing this kind of fanfiction. I have written crossovers and pairing focused stories before (half written though)but this is my first time writing a general fanfiction with incorporating my own elements and ideas. This is huge for me and I must admit, I am very nervous. I will be basically rewriting the whole series in my way and with my ideas and ... god, I hope I can do this. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Flames are not. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Read and review, please.**

* * *

 _ **Prologue**_

One doesn't have to be a genius or excel at everything to be a prodigy. No,what they need to be is passionate.. Because if you were passionate about something, if you could love it, you would actually be bothered to put some effort in it. More than some effort, actually. You would enjoy it, which would make you want do it more, just to see if you can accomplish a bit more or just to enjoy yourself or your victories. The cycle goes on and eventually you are hailed as a prodigy when you eventually master it..

This was the opinion – no, firm belief – of one Ronald Bilius Weasley. Now, this was not an unfounded belief. Indeed, it was his own family that helped him come to this conclusion. Not willingly, of course. Instead, this belief came from observing his family in those moments when nobody seemed to notice him, too busy with bragging about Percy or scolding Fred and George for a prank or something along those lines.

He couldn't bring himself to be annoyed (okay, maybe a little bit annoyed) by Percy's constant gloating or be angry at the Twins for all the pranks that they played on him, though the spider incident came close. He knew Ginny was sneaking the brooms out to practice flying discreetly, since none of her big brothers would let her fly. Ron always made sure to watch her, hidden from view, but he didn't tell anyone.

He knew that they were all brilliant in their own ways. Percy was always the top in every subject and he could study all day long without pause and he could memorize and retain information in a way that Ron could never hope to. Fred and George always liked to fool around, but he could see the brilliance in their pranks, even if he sometimes didn't like them, mostly when they were played on him. It couldn't be easy to mix so many aspects of magic and their own surroundings to for a coordinated and perfectly timed prank. And Ginny had more talent to spare than she let on.

Bill and Charlie were nothing short of geniuses in their own fields. He had seen Bill tear through advanced books of Ancient Runes so fast it made Ron's head spin. And people said Charlie could be a shoo-in for the Quidditch national team if he tried. Though, if the way Charlie interacted animals was anything to go by, he had something other than Quidditch in mind.

Even his parents! No one who ate Molly Weasley's home cooked meal would dare complain against it; it was simply that good. Ron had heard that she had been pretty good at Defense Against Dark Arts in school, always in the top three. And most people thought his father was an underachiever. They couldn't be more wrong. His father might not be as informed about the Muggle world as he would like, but his knowledge of charming and enchanting muggle objects far surpassed than anything Ron ever heard of. And as a son of the Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, he heard a lot.

He could give countless other examples. Luna Lovegood, his sister's friend, had a knack for figuring out just what was wrong with a certain spell or a certain situation or even a person. Then, there was that muggle neighbor of his that wrote the most beautiful poems. The woman who owned the bakery, just five minutes' walk away from his home, could bake a mean cake.

The point is, everyone was good at something and everyone enjoyed doing something they were good at. Therefore, everyone, in their own way, was a prodigy at something.

That was what Ron liked to believe. Problem was, he couldn't quite figure out what he was his prodigious ability. Of course, there was chess. He loved playing chess and he was, to his surprise, very good at it. He could see, not only three moves ahead, but also the set of moves that could be alternatives and all the the moves and countermoves to said alternatives. He could sit in front of a chess board and play with himself in his mind all day long.

But what he couldn't really figure was how that would help him. He knew enough now to know that being brilliant at chess wouldn't help him much, not in terms of education and career, and in real life.

He frowned. It was times like these, when he was alone with his own thoughts, that his mind usually took more of such somber routes.

"Ron?" His sister's soft voice drifted from the doorway. He looked up and tilted his head to see her peering at him from behind the door. She smiled at him. "Playing with yourself again?"

He grinned. "It's not my fault that nobody seems to be able to compete with me."

"Prat!" she said, grinning.. "I bet Harry Potter could!"

He shook his head. His sister had recently bought the Harry Potter Adventures books. She hadn't even read through it and she was completely enamoured with the boy in the books, even though that boy most probably wasn't real. Really, what kind of a five year old went against an adult Dragon and survives? Even if the boy had somehow survived the nastiest Dark Lord to have ever lived…

That brought another thought to his mind. What was Harry Potter good at? Could he be good at chess, like Ron himself was? Or was he good at something else, like Defence? That wouldn't be much of a stretch. He supposed he would find out in a few years' time, when he went to school. Harry Potter was supposed to enter school the same year as he. It would be interesting, if nothing else.

A pillow smacked against his face bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see his little sister hovering over him, a frown on her face that was eerily reminiscent to that of one Molly Weasley. He shuddered. His sister would be a force to be reckoned with when she grew up.

"Really, Ron. Don't get lost in your own head again. Come on, come on! I still haven't read the last chapter of 'Harry Potter and the Curse of the Clock'! Read it to me, come on!" she ranted as she grabbed his hand and started tugging with a strength that no one would believe she had given her size..

Ron didn't budge, though. "Why can't you read it yourself?"

"Because I'm feeling really sleepy and you know I can't read when I'm sleepy but I wanna know what happens next so you're gonna have to read it to me. Nobody else will. I wanna know if Harry really saved the villagers or not!"

"Ginny," he said, levelling a pointed stare towards her. "You do realise that all of those are rubbish, right? The real Harry Potter isn't going around the world saving people."

"Hmph! How do you know?" she huffed but didn't give him a chance to answer. "Anyway, it doesn't matter! I wanna know what happens next! Come on!"

He rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation. "Alright, Alright!" he said as he got up and followed Ginny, making sure to turn the lights off and close the door behind him.

He followed her into her bedroom and waited as she made herself comfortable on her bed before he grabbed the book from the nightstand, eying the cover. It showed an illustration of Harry Potter, a pale boy with black unruly hair and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, hazel eyes glinting in the dark, standing with wand in hand with a broken Clock Tower behind him and a cloud covered night sky that was crackling with lightning all over. Really, where did they even get these ideas?

"What are you waiting for, Ron?" Ginny asked. "Come on!"

Ron sighed and pulled a chair beside the bed and sat on it. He opened the book to the last chapter and began to read.

"Harry made his way up the creaky, half broken stairs, wand clutched tightly in a white-knuckled grip, as his eyes darted around…."

He kept reading, until he heard the soft snores from his sister. A small smile spreading across his lips as he stared at her peaceful face. He ran a hand over her forehead.

He didn't what he would be good at, or if he could be good at anything(other than chess), and he didn't know what the future held for him. But he wouldn't worry about that now. There would be plenty of time later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy every moment with his family.

He sighed and closed the book. He glanced at the cover once again.

What was Harry Potter good at though?


	2. Chapter 1

**This was supposed to be part of the prologue but the prologue got too long with this. So I separated it. It's short but I promise the chapters will get longer. Like I said, constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you enjoy. Read and review, please.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1**_

Harry Potter was living a life that was nowhere near the imaginations of Witches and Wizards. Not even the man who placed him there.

You see, the people he lived with hated him for his magic, and were afraid of it as well. Not that Harry knew that. All he knew was that they blamed him for all the strange things that happened around him, for some reason. Not that he didn't understand where they were coming from. Freaky things happened around him or with him.

A person's hair just doesn't grow back overnight. A wig doesn't turn blue out of nowhere. One doesn't just somehow teleport to the roof of a building from the ground. But all these happened around one Harry Potter.

Of course, he didn't know what was causing all this and his relatives refused to believe him. That resulted in his home life being less than pleasant. Oh, they didn't hit him. Lord, no! Normal people didn't hit children. But that didn't mean they didn't hurt him. You see, contrary to what people say, words can hurt more than any number of sticks or stones. And that was exactly what the Dursleys used.

They made it clear that they didn't like him, forced chores on him ever since he could remember, gave him only scrapes to eat and his cousin Dudley's hand-me-downs, spread rumours about him being an unruly child around the neighborhood. He never received the slightest affection, while Dudley got everything single thing he wanted. It wasn't fair! Why should Dudley get all those things? What did he do to deserve it? It drove another wedge in little Harry's heart from the fact that he would never have the love and affection he craved.

Currently, Harry was being chased around the neighbourhood by his cousin Dudley and gang, in yet another game of 'Harry Hunting'. Harry ran for his life, even as his legs started to tire out. He couldn't get caught. He still had the bruises from the last time.

They were nearing the park now, and there weren't many buildings around. Being fast on his feet, he turned the corner and darted into the first open door he saw, without checking the sign. The bullies rounded the corner a moment later and, unfortunately, saw him entering the building.

"He's in there! Get him!" He heard Dudley's voice, followed by several footfalls that told him they were following him inside.

Harry ran into the first room that he found; he looked around and froze.

He was standing in a laboratory.

There were strange instruments and glasses on the table and the cabinets at the back of the room contained a number of bottles with strange liquids in them.

He all but forgot his chasers, as his interest was zigzagged between the tables and chairs until he reached the cabinet and peered at the bottles. They were labelled with strange names: HCl, Ca(OH)2, NaOH, CaCO3 and so many others! He could understand none of them, though. Why did these bottles have labels with random letters and numbers? Did they mean something? Were they symbols of some kind?

He was just about to open the door to the shelf, when he was jerked back to reality when, he heard shouts and loud footsteps from the outside. "Where is he?" he heard Dudley shout. "Where's the freak?!" Harry suppressed a gasp and quickly darted under the nearest bench.

"Find him!" His cousin shrieked.

There were some shuffling and scattered footsteps in the hallway before he heard Piers Polkiss' voice just outside the room he was in.

"Hey! This door is open! I'm going in!"

Harry clamped his hands over his mouth as the door creaked open, shifting his eyes just enough to see the a pair of feet enter his line of vision through the doorway.

He gulped. The gang of five were bad enough on a regular day when he didn't do anything. Today, he had tripped Piers while trying to escape them. He didn't want to find out what would happen when they caught him.

But luck seemed to be on Harry's side and he didn't need to find out just what would've happened. No sooner had the boy taken a step into the classroom than the bell rang.

Harry saw Piers stop in his track. The hallway was silent for a moment, and then, there was an explosion of noise. The loud sound of footsteps seemed to be coming from every which way, along with hundreds of voices that were echoing in the hallway.

"Crap!" Harry heard Piers hiss to his friends. "I forgot. Secondary school classes run longer. We have to go! We can't get caught here. Mum will ground me for ages!"

Harry felt alarmed. This was a secondary school? He peeked out from under the bench and looked around. Why was there a laboratory in a secondary school?.

There was murmur of agreement from the other boys and Harry heard them shuffle away from the classroom. He waited for a few moments to see if they were coming back. When he heard only the loud and heavy footsteps of, what he presumed, were the older students, he cautiously started to crawl out.

But Piers' bad luck seemed pounce on him now, and as soon as his head emerged from under the table, the door banged open. Harry saw a sea of legs as students poured in. Harry gasped and quickly drew back under the table. If Piers couldn't get caught, then that went double for Harry. If Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got slightest whiff that he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be… he didn't want to think how many nights in the cupboard without food that would bring.

Fortunately, it seemed that his gasp had been drowned by the outpour of chatter and the scrapping of benches as students took their made himself small and clamped his hands over his mouth, not daring to move from his hiding spot, praying that no one would find him.

For once, it seemed, his prayers were answered. No one sat at the table he was under. He cautiously peeked through the legs and saw all the seats except a few in his row was filled up.

The door opened again- this time more gently - and immediately silence fell. Soft footsteps echoed around the room as a man (was it a man?) entered it. From what he could see, Harry guessed this was the teacher. He was proven right as the man - definitely a man - made straight for the table at the front.

"Afternoon, class," he said in a deep voice and paused for a moment. "It seems we have quite a few absentees today." _Huh, thought Harry,_ _that explained it._ He thanked his lucky stars that those students chose today of all days to remain absent. "I hope you've done your assignments. Please hand it in right now."

Once again, there was the sound of shuffling as all students made their way up to the front table to put their assignments there. Harry kept still, hoping he wouldn't be spotted by any of the students who were returning to their respective seats. He only relaxed when they all settled down once more.

He was small for his age, looking more like a 5 year old boy instead of the 7 years old that he actually was. So it wasn't too uncomfortable there. It seemed he would have to stay there for a while. He had to be back home in an hour though. He hoped this class would end before then. Being late meant more chores tomorrow.

"Today's topic," the man said, the noise of a marker dragging across the whiteboard reaching Harry's ears, "is double displacement. Who can tell me what that is?"

There was a pause and several hands were thrown up into the air. "Yes, Mr. Langley?" said the teacher.

A boy spoke from somewhere in the front. "It's a reaction where two compounds are used at reactants and two compounds are received as products."

"Yes, that would be the simplest way to put it," the teacher responded. "A double displacement reaction," he started, "also known as a double replacement reaction or metathesis, is a type of chemical reaction where two compounds react, and the positive ions, cation, and the negative ions. anion, of the two reactants switch places, forming two new compounds or products. The overall pattern of a double displacement reaction looks like this."

Once again, there was the sound of the marker across the board, but this time, it was accompanied with the scratching of pen across paper, as the students jotted down notes. A few seconds later, the noises ceased and the teacher spoke again.

"You can think of the reaction as swapping the cations or the anions, but not swapping both since you would end up with the same substances you started with," he said, "the solvent for a double replacement reaction is usually water, and the reactants and products are usually ionic compounds—but they can also be acids or bases."

Harry's head spun as he listened to the man's speech. Cations? Anions? What on earth were those? He had heard about acids before. Uncle Vernon said that those were really harmful things that burned your skin if you touched them. Did people really learn about such things when they were older? Wasn't that dangerous? And what was a base anyway?

He was brought out of his internal questioning as the teacher started speaking again. "Here is an example of a double replacement reaction." Again, there was the sound of the teacher writing on the board and the students copying down whatever he wrote, even as he kept speaking. "In this example, the cations are Barium and Sodium ions, and the anions are Chloride and Sulphate ions . If we swap the anions, or cations, we get as our products Barium Sulphate and Sodium Chloride."

Unknown to the occupants of the room, Harry was on the verge of developing a headache trying to follow what the man was saying. He didn't understand anything! He didn't like not understanding. Even as he continue to (deliberately) do worse than Dudley in class, there wasn't a single thing that he couldn't understand.

When the teachers taught them addition and subtraction, when they started teaching them stuff like how sun was also a star and all the stars together are called galaxies, he caught on faster than most of his classmates And here, he couldn't understand a single thing! It was so frustrating and yet, he found it interesting. He didn't understand all those new terms and words. But he believed he did understand the concept. If you mixed two different things, liquids in this case, you would get two new and completely different things!

The thought sent his mind down an imaginary hill. How was that even possible? How can you get two completely different substances? It was almost like… magic. But, that was silly. Magic didn't exist. He didn't need Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to tell him that. He was sure there was a perfectly reasonable, normal explanation for that.

"Today, we will be discussing precipitation and neutralization reactions. Mostly the precipitation reaction." Harry turned his attention back to what the teacher was saying. "Both are a kind of double displacement reaction. A precipitation reaction is when two aqueous ionic compounds form a new ionic compound that is not soluble in water. For example, both lead nitrate and potassium iodide are white solids that can be dissolved in water to make clear, colorless solutions. When you combine the two clear solutions, you get the following reaction."

There was a pause as the teacher wrote something on the board and the students jotted it down, before the teacher continued. "When we mix these two clear solutions, we will get a beautiful golden solid. This will be our fun little experiment!" He sounded absolutely giddy at the prospect. There was a murmur of excitement among the students as well.

"But that is after we finish today's discussion," he said and the murmurs died down. "Now, the insoluble product compound is called the precipitate. The solvent and soluble components of the reaction are called the supernatant or supernate. We can use solubility rules to predict whether a precipitation reaction will take place. The formation of a solid precipitate is the driving force that makes the reaction proceed in the forward direction."

"Now, for the neutralization reaction," he continued. "Neutralization reactions are a type of double replacement reaction that occurs between an acid and a base. This…" again a pause for writing, "is an example of a neutralization reaction. An aqueous neutralization reaction generally produces water and a new ionic compound, also called a salt. We will discuss this in detail in the next class. For now, the experiment!" Then came the sound of a clap that was most probably given by the teacher. "Everyone, form groups of four, grab a table and let's get to work!"

There was a few moments of chaos as the students shuffled to form groups, presumably with their friends. Harry sighed. He wondered what it was like to have friends. As the class settled down, he cautiously peered around once again. Now that there were groups of four at each desk, all the students were clustered among the first few rows. But he still couldn't get out. He would surely be spotted if he was the only one moving. But it seemed safe to watch for now.

"Alright, class," said the teacher - a middle aged man with a few grey strands in his otherwise brown hair - as he walked to tables, handing something out, "I'm giving you guys five grams each of lead nitrate and potassium iodide. What you need to do is make stock solution of each. Take a glass tube, pour 30 milliliters of distilled water in it, then pour in one of the powders. Then cover the mouth of the tube with a rubber stopper and shake so it dissolves well. Repeat it again with the other compound."

He said as he reached the last desk and put what Harry assumed was the - what was it again? - oh, yeah, compounds the man mentioned. It just seemed like wrapped paper to him. But as the students unfold the papers, Harry could see white powder in them. The teacher continued as he made his way to the front desk.

"And then pour one of the stock solution into another, clean glass tube. And the pour some of the other solution into it. And you should have your golden precipitate. Simple enough. Go ahead!"

Harry watched as the students followed the instructions to the letter, eyes following each movement. There was a sharp intake of breath from him as he watched the clear solution turn slowly into a beautiful golden hue as the other solution (What was a solution anyway? As far as he knew, solution meant finding answer to a problem) was poured into it. He watched, mesmerised, as the clear solution turned a beautiful molten gold, with a glittering satin-like quality. Harry heard the teacher direct the students to heat the liquid and watched as it became tiny, clear, solid golden particles falling to the bottom of the glass.

He didn't want to believe it at first, but, it was right in front of his eyes! It was like magic. But it wasn't, it was science. He was sure of it. He wanted to do that! It looked so beautiful. Not to mention fun. And like magic! Ugh, he didn't know why he kept fixating on that point.

All of the students seemed to have gotten it right. He could see them many of them grinning at each other. "Perfect," the teacher's voice came from the front. "Now, our time's almost up. Your homework will be to write down an essay about precipitation reaction, definition, mechanism, elass."

As soon as he finished speaking, the bell rang. Instantly, the noise level in the room went up as the students started to stuff their things into their bags while talking to their friends. He stared at them for a few moments, watching until they started to leave. It was now or never. He cautiously got out from under the table and looked around. No one seemed to notice him. Good.

He slipped into the small gap between the first column of seat and the wall adjacent to the door. He was small enough for it. He crawled his way towards the door, the students too engrossed among themselves to notice him, especially in so small a space. As the last student walked out, he reached close enough to the door and cautiously peered around the leg of the desk he was beside of. Seeing the teacher was busy with the assignments handed in at the start of the class, Harry quickly darted out of the room and into the crowd of teenagers who were now running to their respective classes.

He darted between them with quiet, nimble and surprisingly - or perhaps not - agile steps. In their hurry to get to class, nobody seemed to notice him. Or if they did, they didn't say anything. Harry didn't stop until he had put some distance between himself and the building. He hunched over, putting his hands on his knees and panting. He looked back after a moment, his eyes widening as he saw the huge board at the front of the building.

 **Stonewall Secondary School**

That was the school Uncle Vernon always spoke of sending him to. For the first time since who-knew-when, he felt a grin spreading across his face. If that was the kind of thing he was going to be taught at that school, then he couldn't wait to go. At least, that was one good thing Uncle Vernon would actually do for him. He couldn't wait to learn that stuff!

He looked down at his watch. It was a hand-me-down, the glass cracked. But it worked well enough. He sighed. Only ten minutes before he had to be home. Shaking his head, he gave a longing look towards the direction of his future school before sprinting towards Number Four, Privet Drive. He needed to be home in time. He would go and browse some books in the library tomorrow, see if he couldn't find something about the stuff he saw and heard today.

No one said he couldn't get an early start.

It seemed, as one Ron Weasley would say, that Harry Potter had found something to be a prodigy at.


End file.
